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If Brad ever saw me walking towards him on a street, I’m sure he’d run in the other direction.
But that’s not the only difference between us.
I don’t show up to work in a fucking tracksuit.
Fuck that.
I wear suits.
Expensive ones.
My colleagues may think it’s vain of me, but I couldn’t give a fuck. A man in a suit is taken seriously and isn’t asked where he came from or what he had to do to get to where he is now.
A man in sweats?
Fuck, he might as well be another unemployed moron who spends his days jerking off to bad porn on his mother’s couch in whatever rat-infested shithole house they live in back in Roxbury.
So yeah… only suits for me.
It’s my own life hack, if you will.
While their attention is on my Tom Ford suit, they don’t even think of questioning me or my abilities. Of course, if they dare to do so, all I have to do is roll up my sleeves to give them a glimpse of my hard-earned ink to alert them that we’re not the same.
I’m not to be trifled with.
Having said that, you can say that I’m not the approachable kind of man.
When people meet me, they find me… intimidating.
I don’t mind.
Not in the least.
If I intimidate you, well, then… I’ve done my job right.
But every so often, a person comes along who isn’t daunted by me in any shape, way or form.
And when this happens, I usually find them quite fascinating.
Piper Lee just so happens to be one of those people.
And I find her… fucking unnerving.
Not only does the infuriating woman not see me as a threat, but she acts like I should be intimidated by her and not the other way around.
It’s quite… discerning.
More so, because I do believe that Piper Lee might be one of the most beautiful women to have ever walked the face of the earth.
And that’s saying something since I’m not usually taken aback by a pretty face.
But Piper… she’s not just pretty. She’s fucking luminous.
Especially when she’s arguing with me.
And she… isalwaysarguing with me.
It is her job, after all.
